The Brightest Bulb Has Burned Out
by a d.a.n.c.e. of -passion
Summary: Hermione is ready for her seventh year at Hogwarts, but not everyone is ready for what she has become. After a summer of trying to forget, she aquires some new habbits others would condemn. Only one person can change her back. But who?
1. Chapter 1

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****Disclaimer:** _Anything you recognize is not my material._

**Announcement**: _Reviews are greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic and I would like to know how others think of it. I don't care how harsh the reviews are, because harsh reviews are better than none._

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­­­­­­­Silence surrounded her as she sat in the library early on a Saturday morning. Not many sane people were up at this time of day, let alone actually using their brain. But of course, Hermione was up and ready to learn, ready to think, ready to read, ready to escape. Worries continuously plagued her; worries about Harry, about how he was doing, about how close he was to finding the horcruxes, about if he was still alive. Through trial and error, Hermione found that the only way to forget about these worries was to read, was to lose herself in the story of another.

A book, Shakespeare's Hamlet, was opened to the second act, third scene. The story had begun to unfold before her that morning when she took the book off of the shelf for her personal entertainment. Her long auburn locks fell in front of her face, falling on top of the words. Quickly, with an annoyed glare, she brushed her hair out of her face, placing it behind her ear. A small sigh escaped her lips as she turned her attention back to the drama.

The sigh caught a boy's attention, one who happened to be in the aisle not too far from her. He was scrawny and pale, his eyes a dark brown, almost black, his brown hair matted and unkempt. His sleeves were long, even though it was the middle of summer, and he was wearing long pants. Quietly, he walked to the end of the aisle, looking to see who the sound came from. His eyes fell upon the only other inhabitant of this library; a very pretty girl who he had never seen before. Out of habit, he picked up a book from the shelf and wandered over to her, sitting across from her at the table near the back of the room.

The boy's stealthy movements prevented Hermione from hearing him, but for some odd reason she looked up. A gasp escaped her lips as she realized that someone was sitting in front of her, someone whose appearance disgusted her. But Hermione wasn't one to judge people on their appearance. It was what was on the inside that counted. So, of course, the benevolent girl smiled at the boy, deciding to start a pleasant conversation.

"Hi," she said softly, her eyes meeting his as a friendly smile crossed her lips. "What are you reading?"

The boy looked at the book in his hands, almost as if it appeared there without him knowing. But he had picked it up. To his dismay and complete embarrassment, the book was upside down, and he quickly flipped it over, skimming the title; The Jewels of Tessa Kent. What type of book is this anyway? He had no idea, so decided to brush the question off with a quick, evasive answer.

"Nothing all that interesting," he said, placing the book next to him, focusing his attention on the girl. "I'm Jesse, Jesse Marshall. And you are?"

He stuck his hand out for her to shake, though he couldn't figure out why. Then again, most of the things Jesse did were unexplained and quite sudden. So his proper introduction was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hermione Granger," she replied politely, taking his hand, shaking it firmly like a proper business woman should. Spending most of her time at Hogwarts, or in the wizarding world, she was used to people knowing her name, either because of her astute intelligence, or her bouts with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She almost expected a snide remark or a word of praise to come from this boy until she remembered she was back at home for the summer, back in the Muggle world. So, she wasn't surprised when she heard none of this from him. What surprised her was to hear what came out of his mouth next.

"Do you wanna go get a drink or something at the café next door?"

Hermione hadn't had very much experience with guys, mainly Victor Crum in her fourth year, so this was odd. Her mind could barely grasp the concept that she was being asked out. On a date? Was this considered a date? She had no idea, and it was very rare for Hermione not to know something.

"Sure." That word came out of Hermione's mouth before she had time to stop it. Giving herself no time to mull this over and consider the consequences, she knew she was putting herself out of her element. But she had already accepted his offer and could not take back her consent. She was going to the café with a boy she had just met.

"Great!"

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A giggle filtered through the opened window coming from a small boned teenage girl named Hermione, the one and only, the same one which agreed on going to the café with Jesse. One leg crossed over the other as she brushed her hair out of her face. She was flirting. The great Hermione Granger was flirting with someone for no other reason than to purely flirt. A sure sign of the apocalypse if there was one.

Time flew by, more time than Hermione thought possible. It had been two hours since the pair had arrived at the café; it was three cups of coffee later; it was time for them to begin speaking about themselves. Before this point they had been conversing about any book which came to mind. The conversation had been enticing, yet not to invasive. It is inevitable that the conversation would wind down, and it did.

"So, Hermione," Jesse said after a moment of vaguely uncomfortable silence in which both teenagers were thinking of something to say. "Tell me something interesting about yourself."

Interesting? Oh, how she wished she could divulge all of her secrets. Oh, how she wished she could confide in him, spill her story, tell her worries. And if her story wasn't so unbelievable, she would have told him. If she wasn't a witch, if she didn't go to Hogwarts, if she was normal, she would have told him. Instead, she tried to think of something Muggle related. When she couldn't, she decided to change the truth to suit the question.

"I've been going to boarding school since I was eleven."

Hopefully that would satisfy him, because she could think of nothing else. If she was forced to, her thoughts would inevitably turn to those of Harry, which would, in turn, bring forth the worries which plagued her constantly. That was something she was trying to avoid, but at this moment she was failing miserably.

"What about you? Tell me something interesting about yourself."

Jesse is an eccentric human to say the least, yet he was unable to think of something to tell her. He was not one to divulge his secrets, and he had hoped that Hermione was the type of girl who, with very little prompting, would talk about herself. Well, he was obviously wrong. Sitting there, he tried in vain to think of something interesting to say. Or at least something that would appease her.

"Well, I spend more time in the library than I do at home," Jesse answered after a few short seconds of thought. "I know all of the librarians by name, and they know me by name as well."

His speech was nonchalant, not even hinting at the fact that he had been searching for something to say. But Hermione is sharp and knowledgeable in human behavior; or maybe it's because she did the same thing. Either way, she knew that Jesse had just picked a fact about him because he was trying to hide something. Maybe not a secret as unbelievable as hers, but a secret nonetheless. Never being the person to keep her thoughts to herself, she confronted him directly about this.

"There's much more you could have chosen from, but for some reason you chose this," she said, her tone portraying her matter-of-fact attitude. Her gaze met his as she opened her mouth to finish her thought. "What is it that you decided not to tell?"

Of course, she knows that everybody has secrets. And she knows that she is in no position to find out his. But her mouth has an annoying tendency to move before her mind can stop it. Blushing slightly, she realized how blunt her question was; she realized that she probably shouldn't have asked it in the first place. Too bad she couldn't take it back, or wipe it from his memory.

"Something that you'll find out if you decide to stick around."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own any of the charecters or places that you recognize. I wish I did, but I don't. And I know it's not perfect, but I hope it's good. Reviews make me very very very happy. And I hope when school's done I can update more often, but for now, if you're reading this, thank you...and please review. I'll give you a cookie and a BIG hug.**

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_Dear Diary,_

_Something happened today, something unexpected, something wonderful; a change from the norm. I don't remember the last time I was this happy. Not since Harry left to fulfill the prophecy. As you know, since then I have not been the same. Had I been a doctor, or a psychologist, I would have diagnosed myself as clinically depressed. But now I'm not so sure._

_I have had a smile plastered on my face all day, ever since Jesse came up to me in the library. He asked me to go to the café for a drink, and we talked for hours about books. I have never met someone who has read nearly as much as me, but he does come close. Talking to him took my mind off of all that had been bothering me. I actually enjoyed my time with him._

_Believe it or not, I think I was flirting. It was weird, and at times it bothered me, but as a whole, it was fun. He looked at me differently. I wasn't the genius, or Harry's sidekick. I was just the girl sitting in the library. I was just someone he could talk to. I am still just that girl. I am still someone he can talk to._

_It feels good not to have a label put in front of my name. It feels good not to be thought of one way or another. Even the look in the other person's eye is different when they meet you with no thoughts of you already implanted in their mind. They don't know you, so their mind is opened, and filled with what you put in there. It feels amazing, like I am a whole new person, like I am let free._

_But then our conversation turned personal, and he asked me to tell him something interesting about me. I couldn't think of anything. There is no proper answer to that question. So I said something stupid; that I have gone to boarding school since I was eleven. To some, that may be interesting, but in retrospect, it is quite normal._

_He too said something stupid to cover up a secret. Maybe not one as impossible to comprehend as mine, but a secret is a secret. I called him on it, but he just said that I'd find out in time. And maybe I will. Knowing me, I will hold him to that statement; I will make sure that I find out eventually. That would mean that I see him regularly. Not that I mind. His company is relaxing and quite enjoyable. I just hope that he doesn't mind my company. I know some people, mainly Harry and Ron, are annoyed by me, and sometimes I have no idea why they continue to be friends with me._

_Well, now it's only Ron since we don't know where Harry is. I have barely spoken to Ron all summer. Not that I expected anything more, but without Harry, I feel as if we're separating. Ron seems to be taking this worse than I am, and I'm worried. I'm not sure if he will be able to hold it together when he sees me. I know seeing him will bring back harsh memories for me, but I can deal with it better. I know I can. I'm stronger._

_Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself. We'll see if I'm right. At least I'm seeing Jesse again. Tomorrow actually. We're meeting at the library. I think he's planning to introduce me to some of his friends and I'm quite excited. I don't remember ever having Muggle friends. I think I'm going to like them better. Muggles seem…different. But who knows. I could be wrong._

_-Hermione-_

She closed her blood red, fabric bound journal, tying the red satin strong around the two covers. Her small hands slid the book underneath her mattress, between it and the box spring bed frame. She couldn't wait until she was back at Hogwarts and able to use magic to keep prying eyes out of her diary. Until then, she would just have to hide it form the prying eyes of her mother. And with an exasperated sigh, she threw herself backwards, landing on her pillow which is covered in a gold silk pillow cover. Her auburn hair fanned around her head creating a harmony with her pillow cover, her waves creating designs on her pillow as her light played with the shadows.

Tears had stained many of the pages in her diary, making the ink run, making the words blend together to portray one thought, one emotion; sadness. Thoughts about Harry, about how he may not come back alive, sent her into fits of hysterics day after day. But today, a small smile lay on her lips as she stared dreamily at her white ceiling, replaying the day in her mind. She remembered her small gasp and she realized he was sitting across from her. She remembered him asking her to the café. She remembered talking for what seemed like hours about books. She remembered the look on his face when he told her that she would find out his secret if she stuck around long enough. And she remembered how she felt when he said that. She remembered the small smile which appeared on her face, the slight blush which crept onto her cheeks. She remembered the butterflies in her stomach at the thought that he was willing to spend more time with her. She remembered thinking that she wouldn't mind spending more time with him. Actually, she'd quite enjoy it. And she remembered the smile from ear to ear as they exchanged phone numbers. His voice over the phone was permanently engrained in her memory, and she recalled the conversation perfectly. Lying there, she kept reliving the conversation, replaying each utterance in her mind.

As Hermione's mother stirred the sauce that was to be put on pasta for dinner, she heard no sobs coming from Hermione's room, as they usually did when the door was closed and locked. Surprisingly, this worried her. In the Muggle world, suicide was prominent, especially with tormented teens such as Hermione. The sobs that used to float through the piping of the small house would scare her, but now the complete silence sent waves of panic crashing over her. If Hermione was silent, something could have happened. Her precious baby, her only child could be dead, could be lying in her bathtub, covered in her own blood, she could be strangled in her bed sheets. Without thinking twice, she darted upstairs, skipping steps, the white carpet dulling the sound of her feet thudding against them. She turned right sprinting around the corner. The landscape photographs, which were hung neatly on the white walls, blurred together as she passed by them quickly. Once she reached Hermione's room at the end of the hallway, she stopped short. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Fear enveloped her. She didn't want to open the door. She didn't want to see what was hidden behind the white wood of the barrier between her and what she may see. Suddenly though, she felt her arm dart out, her hand make contact with the cold gold-painted metal of the doorknob. Quickly, the doorknob turned clockwise and the door slammed opened.

Hermione had been replaying the phone conversation once again in her mind. She was lost in the slightly raspy yet perfectly clear tone of his voice. She was lost in the simple conversation they had. At the moment, even though she was lying on her purple satin bed covers, in her mind she was sitting on her black desk chair, twirling her hair idly, her phone squished between her ear and her chin.

"_Of course I'd love to meet you at the library tomorrow," she said, trying not to sound as excited as she felt. She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against her chair. Jesse then spoke and she inwardly melted. His voice was heaven to her ears. _

"_Great. I'll see you then," Jesse said, the smile on his face quite apparent in his ton of voice. He was glad to have met Hermione, glad to have connected with her. He was relieved that he had been completely sober when he met her, when he called. Being under the influence of nothing made sure that everything he said was completely genuine. _

"_Yeah. I'll see you---"_

The door slammed opened, and Hermione found herself in her bed instead of on her chair. Her phone was nowhere near her, and it had been hours since she had last spoken to him. As the sound reverberated through the room, she jumped, coming inches off of the bed, landing back down in a sitting position.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed, placing her small hand over her heart, over her black tank top. Her breath was shallow, her eyes wide with the remains of fear. She pulled her legs, clad in pink flannel pajama shorts, up to her chest, and curled into a ball. Her hair fell in front of her face as she glared at her mother. "Why didn't you knock before barging in like that?"

"Oh, thank the Lord, you're alright," Hermione's mother, who was a bit on the chubby side, looking very much like a housewife, with the same auburn hair as Hermione, though hers appeared to be burnt and out of control, said with evident relief.

"What?" Hermione said; her voice filled with curiosity and confusion, her anger suddenly dissipating. Why would her mother say such a thing? Of course she is fine. She is more than fine. Way more than fine. She is finally happy after weeks of being depressed. She can finally smile. Her honey brown eyes questioned her mother, curious as to what had been going through her mind. Waiting for an answer, she brushed her long, wavy hair behind her ear.

"Oh…Er…Well…I thought…You could have….oh, never mind," her mother stuttered, unsure of what to say. "It's not important." She stood at the door, shifting her weight nervously. Her flowered dress jostled with each movement sounding as loud as thunder in the quiet room. At least to her it did. She felt like an idiot, thinking that her daughter had killed herself. She should have trusted Hermione. She should have thought that Hermione was happy, had finally found a way to put that amazing smile back on her face. But at the moment, her mother's instincts had kicked in, and her rational thought was overridden by emotion.

An awkward silence fell over the pair. Hermione's mother continued to shuffle, her eyes darting everywhere but directly at Hermione. Hermione was still sitting, curled up on her bed. Her hair once again fell in front of her face. She was looking at her bed sheets, at the light reflecting off of the luster they possessed. And suddenly, she knew what her mother had been thinking. And she knew that she would never do that. She would never kill herself, or do anything to harm herself for that matter. Her body was too precious for her to ruin. Her mind was too precious for her to ruin. Her future was too precious for her to ruin. The ridiculousness of the thought of her doing something so absurd sent Hermione into a fit of giggles, which filled the yellow painted room. The giggles sounded inappropriate as they followed the awkward silence, but they were there. And soon enough they turned into full blown hysterics.

Her mother was baffled by the sudden hysterics her daughter had found herself in. Nothing even remotely funny had happened in the past few minutes. Befuddled, she turned to walk out of the room, leaving her daughter to laugh privately, over something obviously private.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes," she said before heading downstairs to finish cooking the meal for that night.

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**Just remember...REVIEW! Please...**


	3. Chapter 3

_Of course, I do not own any of the charecters, places, or phrases that you recognize. And I know it's not perfect, but I hope it's good enough. Sorry it took so long to update. I've been busy. But the more reviews I get, the quicker the next section will come out. begs for reviews_

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__Dear Diary,_

_I know I haven't written in quite some time, but that's because I've been busy lately. I've met with Jesse every day. I've spent almost every waking moment with him. He's amazing, as are his friends. I feel like they've accepted me for who I am. There are no thoughts about me being something more. I am just Hermione Granger, a plain girl who has gone to a boarding school for most of her life. I am just me. And I have a group of friends who are just who they are._

_But Jesse…he's another story. Every time I see him, I feel my pulse quicken, my breath grow short. Something about him does this to me. Never have I felt this before. Yes, I have had feelings for other people, namely Ron, but nothing compares to this. This is…amazing. I think he feels the same thing for me. I mean, he's made it quite evident. He always sits next to me, and sits quite close. If I'm upset, which I am very rarely now, he just comforts me, drawing me into one of his amazing hugs._

_I don't know. Maybe I'm reading into this too much. I have a tendency to do that. I did that with Ron. For years I did that with Ron. Every time he did something slightly out of character, I was convinced it was because he had a crush on me. There are so many instances that I can pinpoint, but I will refrain. I just hope my instincts are right this time, because at least to my knowledge, Ron never had a crush on me. Not one that he was willing to share despite my quite obvious hinting at times._

_Enough about Ron though. Truthfully, thinking about him is almost as bad as thinking about Harry. Once Harry disappeared, it has been like Ron has disappeared as well. I can't stand it; I can't stand not speaking to him, not being with him. It's worse than all of the fights we've gotten into. It's worse than seeing him with Lavender Brown. It's just…I can't even begin to describe it._

_Being with Jesse can get Harry off of my mind, but it just brings Ron to the forefront of it. I constantly find myself comparing the two, finding things in Jesse that are lacking, that Ron has, that I would like Jesse to have. I wasn't lying before when I said that Jesse is amazing. He is. And I feel all of that when I'm with him. But it's just not the same as what I feel like with Ron. I wasn't lying before when I said I feel something extraordinary around Jesse, because I do. It's just a different feeling with Ron. I enjoy the feeling I get with Ron better. It's different. But better._

_Sometimes I can't stand how I constantly compare them. They are two totally different people, who are from two different worlds. But when it comes down to it, they are still human, and I know will always compare every guy I meet to Ron. No one will ever compare to my first love, my only love, though Jesse comes close._

_If only he admitted that he loved me back before he decided not to speak to me. If only something had sparked between us. If only Harry's disappearance didn't estrange us. If only…_

Tears stained the white pages of her journal, blending the black ink together, so that the words disappeared in a matter of seconds. Her shoulders shook with each intake of breath, though her sobs were quiet, almost inaudible. Her pen dropped out of her hand, nestling itself into her purple bed sheets. So that she wasn't heard by her mother, who had finally come to accept that Hermione was genuinely happy, she threw herself down on her yellow covered pillow, burying her face far into the fabric. The sound was muffled greatly. One could barely hear any noise, let alone the sobs that wracked her entire body. And without realizing it, she fell asleep as she began to calm down. Her diary lay opened on her bed, and she was still in her jeans and tee-shirt. But she still fell asleep, and slept peacefully through the night.

The sunlight shone brightly through her window, bathing the sleeping Hermione. What a perfect day for such miserable thoughts that would inevitably come. Well, if Hermione remembers what day it is which she will. Her body curls up, her hair falling over her face. In her sleep she wipes it away, swatting at the annoying piece of hair. Not long after, her eyes flutter opened, and she stretched slowly, her arms coming above her head, her feet stretching to the bottom of her bed, her back arching slightly. A yawn contorts her face for several seconds before she closes her mouth and sits up.

Befuddlement adorned her features as she realizes that she is still in the clothes she had been in the day before. Confusion engulfs her as she sees her diary lying face opened on the bed. Quickly, she places it under her mattress, just incase her mother happened to walk in. She then jumped out of bed and ran into the shower, sliding out of her clothes from the night before, washing her body carefully. When she got out of the shower, she passed her calendar, and looked to see the date; July 31st, Harry's birthday. Suddenly a cloud seemed to drift over her, leaving a heavy feeling on her shoulder and darkness above her head. It is Harry's birthday and she isn't going to see him, she isn't going to spend the rest of the summer with him. She may never see him again. He may never live to see his next birthday. He may not be alive now.

Tears crept into the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back with her usual willpower. She couldn't break down. She needed to get dressed. She needed to put her make-up on, although she was still getting used to it. Jesse had introduced the concept of make-up to her, and ever since then, she had been using it. Of course, she was able to apply it perfectly, because Hermione usually does things perfectly. Going into her closet, she tried to look for something which her mood would allow her to wear. The only thing she could find was a lone pair of green sweatpants. Not caring about her appearance on this dreary day, she threw them on. Rummaging through her drawers, she found a black tank-top, which she threw on as well, looking as if she just rolled out of bed. Her hair was thrown into a ponytail, and she decided against wearing make-up today. She slipped on her black sneakers, and got ready to rush out of the house.

She wasn't thinking anymore. Rather, she was running on autopilot. If she let herself think, she would be thinking of Harry, dreading what could have happened. Especially today. For some reason, today, his birthday seems to be worse for her than any other, probably because she usually sees him on or near his birthday. But today she knows she's not going to see him. And she is almost positive that she is not going to see him any time in the near future. Or maybe any time at all.

As she tried to fight back tears, her eyes grew red and puffy, as if she had been crying, when that is exactly what she was trying to avoid. She ran out of the house, scratching out a note for her mother, saying that she was going to be gone all day, and may not be in for dinner. After she placed the note on the kitchen table, she almost sprinted to the door, feeling a cool breeze meet her face. The air calmed her down a bit, but she was still unable to forget what day today is, what this could have been if Harry wasn't practically asking to be killed. She continued on her way to the library, hearing the front door slam behind her, but the sound didn't even make her flinch. She just kept walking, as if she was on a mission. Which, in retrospect, she was. She was on a mission to forget. Maybe Jesse can help her do that.

That thought was her fuel; it allowed her to make her way to the library without breaking down. When she reached the steps leading up to the wonderful, gothic style library, she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her eyes were still puffy and red, though she was unaware of that. Her lips were pursed in a line, as she tried not to display her extreme depression. She thought she masked it well, which is the only reason she continued up the steps and into the library to meet Jesse. But as soon as she stepped through the double doors, as soon as Jesse spotted her, he knew something was wrong. She had not hid her emotions well, which angered her.

Jesse jumped up from the chair he was sitting in, and walked briskly over to her. His arms wrapped around her small frame, and he hugged her close, sensing that she needed one. His instincts told him to calm her down, to make the evident hurt disappear. But Hermione just pushed him away, glaring at him with an unwanted fire burning deep within her. She needed the comfort, but for some reason, she was pushing all comfort away. Maybe it was because she felt she needed the pain. Or maybe it was because she felt guilty for not being with Harry and this was her punishment. Either way, Jesse was surprised when she rejected his offer to comfort her.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, taking a step away so that she didn't physically harm him. Jesse's usual eccentric behavior was replaced by one of seriousness and caring. He couldn't help but want to make Hermione feel better. He couldn't help but want to make the pain go away.

"Nothing," she snapped, pushing ahead of him to go sit down at one of the tables, placing her head in her hands. "I'm just fine."

"No," Jesse said sternly, sitting across from where Hermione had sat down, placing his hands on top of hers. His gaze caught hers and he fought to hold it before finishing his statement. "You aren't. So can you tell me what's wrong? Because I can't stand to see you like this."

"Yes," she said sharply, looking up at him, her eyes cutting through him like the sharpest of blades. Her mouth was set in a straight line, her tone ice cold. "I am."


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